


(It was an accident, really)

by Upupanyway



Series: Honest Mistake [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: College era, M/M, dumbass flustered matt, sexual themes but not really explicit sexual content, some "accidental" penis touching, well endowed foggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/pseuds/Upupanyway
Summary: Foggy comes home with one of those awkward boners that the Youth must occasionally deal with and tries to be an adult about it. Matt does not realize this until he makes an absolute fool of himself.





	(It was an accident, really)

**Author's Note:**

> I need more absolute dumbass Matt in the universe when it comes to things that aren't necessarily DD-related

It’s about six months into his first year at law school when Matt finds himself content with the little life he had built. Studies, exercise, and a few friends to top it off (he definitely has a favourite friend, but Matt isn’t sure he’s allowed to say it yet). It’s a slow weekday; not too many readings to catch up on, no major assignments or tests to worry about. So, he’s scrolling through tweets or another somesuch banality, not really paying attention to anything around him that might be pressing.

 

Which is why he’s caught a little off guard at the fast-approaching heartbeat unlocking the dorm, and a little jumpy when the attached voice mutters a quick greeting and makes a beeline for one of the beds (the one that isn’t Matt’s, to specify. Matt feels it’s important to specify).

 

He doesn’t initially notice anything off but when he does, he can’t miss it. He can’t miss the way Foggy’s heartbeat is elevated, nor that the slightly sour mild panic that tinges the air around him. He can’t miss the way his roommate’s breathing is decidedly deliberate. And he definitely doesn’t miss the unfamiliar mass about the other man’s crotchal area.

 

Matt smiles, because he really thinks he knows what’s happening. “Hey, Foggy. What’s up?” Matt replies, turning at his desk to face his roommate.

 

Foggy, for his part, yelps something vague about needing to study and scrambles for his laptop inside his bag.

 

“You sure there’s nothing you want to tell me about?” Matt smirks. He gets up, and makes his way to Foggy’s bed with all the performative casualty of a toddler’s mother trying not to look immediately at the lump under the covers. Matt lands with a flourish beside the other man, narrowly avoiding actually touching Foggy in what must have appeared to be a miracle.

 

Foggy physically squirms.

 

See, here’s the deal: Foggy has been known to be a harmless thief from time to time, particularly when it comes to food. An extra free sample on their rounds through the supermarket, a muffin stuffed into his jacket pocket from optional seminars, a tea bag here and there from the basket beside the hot water in the library cafeteria. And Foggy always smells like food in some way or another. It’s… homey (as in, it often feels like Foggy should be in the midst of a comfy domestic setting; a thought Matt would have to unwrap one of these days, stretching his meagre collection of brain cells to their absolute limit). It’s not too much of a stretch to believe, as Matt has, that Foggy had stolen a burrito or something from one of the myriad campus events he had inexplicable knowledge of and simply stuffed it into the waistband of his sweatpants.

 

“Nope, nothing at all. Absolutely nothing new. Everything is very regular. Super regular,” Foggy rambles, oscillating between octaves and coughing for good measure. Matt does, however, sense him shifting so his pelvis is surreptitiously pointing slightly away, and firmly under the sturdy cover of his laptop.

 

“Cool, cool,” Matt answers gamely. “So you don’t mind me hanging out here for a bit? I think I need a break from studying.”

 

“Um. Sure,” comes the brisk reply. Matt pretends Foggy doesn’t immediately look over at Matt’s desk, which probably was still displaying his Twitter feed, and scrolled down what should have been an embarrassing amount. #ThurgoodMarshallQuotes. Whatever.

 

Again, having a wrong assessment of the situation, Matt hopes Foggy would eventually just unwrap whatever he’s hiding and be forced to share with his friend-slash-roommate. Unfortunately, after a few moments of awkward clacking from the keyboard and some head tilts from Foggy that Matt knew meant Foggy was frowning at him, Matt’s vibrating energy boils over. Rolling over in the bed, he moves Foggy’s laptop to the bedside (eliciting a huffed protest) and lets his hands take its place (eliciting a high-pitched whimper) in a sweeping movement that has Matt wondering how Foggy has yet to question Matt’s sensory capabilities.

 

So Matt realizes he had miscalculated. It takes a moment of fondling, but even through the layers of fabric, the bulge is unmistakable. Matt pales.

 

“That’s not a burrito,” he manages, lamely.

 

“No, it’s not,” Foggy agrees.

 

So, Matt doesn’t have much of a point of reference, being most familiar with his own body, but he likes to think he’s not being generous when he describes himself as “about average.” Foggy, though. Foggy is definitely bigger.

 

And okay, Matt has a lot of shit in his life to sort through. Living in an orphanage and being trained to be a breathing weapon as a child has that sort of effect. Not even mentioning the fact that he just heard Ollie Jung sneeze from five floors down. But Matt had hoped, really hoped, that wanting to caress and cradle his roommate’s actual penis would not be one of these things. (In hindsight, maybe worrying about that sort of thing was indicative of something.) Unfortunately for him, God has a sense of humour. The kind of humour that has Matt’s brain shutting down just when Matt is stuck with a (really good) handful.

 

“Matt?” Foggy breaks through Matt’s mental fog. “You’re- um, you’re still holding my-”

 

“Shit. Sorry.” Matt has the courtesy to blush and jump off of his friend. And soon Matt is in his own bed and trying to pay attention to whatever landed in his hands, which feels regrettably like paper, and not Foggy’s skin.

 

And that’s the thing. This is Matt’s best friend. His favourite person in the world. His very platonic friend who is funny and charming. And somehow generous enough to actually want to befriend Matt, of all people. Foggy Nelson, who gave hugs very easily, and would occasionally pat Matt’s hair in the mornings. And sometimes they would get drunk and handsy and if Matt was lucky he’d get to sniff Foggy’s hair or get a kiss on his cheek for his troubles. And he’d follow Matt out of the party early before it got too rowdy and loud, loud, loud, and act as if the party was losing out for losing Matt’s company, and Foggy would fix them both glasses of water and make them sandwiches even though Foggy is usually also drunk enough that words come out jumbled and warm. But even outside of that, Foggy’s brilliant, and fierce when he needs to be, and soft when he lets himself be, and now Foggy also has a huge d-

 

Okay, actually, apparently Foggy has been well endowed the whole time. Six months and Matt has had Foggy in his presence for pretty much all of it. Fuck.

 

“Hey, Matt?” Foggy asks, tentatively, after a very long silence. “I know it was a genuine mistake, you don’t have to feel, like awkward about anything.” And somehow Foggy finds a way to clear the air after he was the one being groped.

 

“Um. No, I’m sorry for touching your, uh, touching you.”

 

Okay. So it’s not just his dick. Obviously. Matt reasons that maybe he’s been in love with Foggy the entire time, but for some reason he really wants to be touching Foggy and not having to apologize for it. Not even just the more adventurous bits, but everywhere. His hands, his hair, his back, his chest, his thighs, God, every inch of him (and now that he knows there had been maybe a few more inches than anticipated- Mat chides himself. He really shouldn’t give into his lust even though he has a tendency to stew in his thoughts. He’d have to ride it out. Ride it like- again, Matt scowls at himself.)

 

“Your face is doing some interesting stuff there, buddy.” Foggy says, and tries to go for light. But Matt can tell he’s nervous. Neither of them know how to proceed with this situation.

 

“Fuck me,” Matt blurts out, like an actual proposition. Because it’s all he’s been able to think for the past few minutes. Maybe more like the past few months, if he wants to be really honest, but he doesn’t want to be honest.

 

“Um.” Yeah, maybe Matt should actually try to mitigate damage if Foggy’s skyrocketing pulse is anything to go by.

 

“I mean, uh. You, you have a nice- I- fuck. It’s fine,” Matt tries. None of it makes sense, and he’s pretty sure none of it is actually helping.

 

“Okay,” Foggy says, tone unreadable and very quiet.

 

Matt does not say anything, resolves never to say anything again.

 

“I mean, is that something you want? For me to fuck you?” and Foggy’s tone is somewhere between curious, incredulous, and searching.

 

Matt doesn’t have enough of a working brain to lie, especially because he chooses to read hope into that question and Matt feels like he might actually die if he never gets to touch Foggy again. “Um. yes? Yes.”

 

“Like, college experimentation style?”

 

“Sure.” Actually, more like “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I can picture growing old with you” style, Matt doesn’t say.

 

“Okay,” Foggy repeats.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Let’s do it.” Matt doesn’t die. They can sort out the rest later.

**Author's Note:**

> so um there was [this post](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com/post/184122268618/matt-finding-out-that-foggy-has-a-big-dick-and#notes) by the brilliant [returnsandreturns](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com/) (who does not know me but whom i personally admire) and i just had to throw my hat in the ring even though no one asked.


End file.
